In Over My Head
by Agent Henry
Summary: The celebrity world isn't as glamorous as people think. Behind every angelic face is a demon waiting for that perfect moment. Once you're a part of them, there's no getting back out. I'm in way over my head here.
1. From One Party to Another

**For: **OCDdegrassi's Controversial Challenge.

**Issues: **Drug addiction, murder/suicide.

**Pairing: **James/Rory.

**Warnings:** Strong violence, strong language, scenes of a sexual nature, alcohol abuse, drub abuse, slash.

**A/N: **Hey, guys. Welcome to a very controversial story, dealing with the issues of drug addiction and death. It's a very serious topic and, as it's my first time writing something like this, I hope I do justice to the damage they can cause.

* * *

I feel suffocated. Everyone around my closes in, taking what air I have left to myself. I can't breathe, I can't think straight. I try to get out, pushing past, through any available space. I stumble; they think I've had too much to drink and laugh, saying I'll be fine again in the morning. I don't care. It's too hot in here. My palms sweat; I feel it dripping down my forehead too, and my heart is racing so much hard, I swear it's ready to explode from my chest.

But I see it; the light. I run to it, closing that last gap. I push open one side of the double glass doors and stop when I'm leaning against the balcony, my head buried in my folded arms. The air comes back, my breathing slows to a normal pace and I can think clearly again. "Much better."

"Are you alright?"

I look up quickly. There is another guy out here with me; I didn't see him before. He's watching me, his light brown hair long enough to blow in the breeze, wearing a simple black tux he doesn't feel comfortable in. I take in his features, smiling lightly because there is someone here who actually gets that I'm not drunk. The look in his eyes tells me he's concerned, but the smirk on his face says my run out here amused him. "I'm okay now, I just get really claustrophobic." I point behind me to the party.

"Ah. I just hate them," he says before tipping the rest of his whiskey back, finishing the glass.

"Oh, I hate them, too," I laugh. "But they make me stay for longer than should be allowed."

He laughs with me and moves forward, leaning against the bars a little away from me, for which I'm grateful; I'm still a little shaky from before… Not that I'll tell him that. "That's because you're their star, Mr Seeker," he grins and winks.

So, you do know who I am," I reply, nodding.

"I've seen you around, James." He holds out his hand, though he looks sceptical about me actually taking it. "I'm Rory Gilbert; Danny's younger brother."

My eyes widen at the name; Danny is Puddlemere's best chaser and a good friend of mine. I can't believe he's never said anything about having a brother. I never would have guessed, even if he did; this man is brunet with tanned skin and brown eyes, whereas his brother is paler with blond hair and blue eyes. His smirk is back; I take it he's figured out what I'm thinking. "I am the result of our mother's second marriage. As you can tell, we both look more like our dads than we do our mum."

"Yeah," I agree softly. He still has his hand out and a take it quickly. "James Potter, it's nice to meet you. Forgive me, I hope this doesn't get Dan in trouble, but how come he's never mentioned you?"

He replies with a harsh laugh and lets go. "To say Danny and I don't get along would be an understatement; he would do almost anything for me because I'm his little brother, but that doesn't mean he has to like me. I'm only here because mum made him invite me, then she made me come. I wouldn't have listened, but I like my car and I dread to think what that witch would do. He only listened because he needs his broom."

"Families can be tough, even if they do mean well," I sigh. "I should know; my family is huge."

"Oh, I know," he says, rolling his eyes. "I'm honestly undecided on whether your claustrophobia should make sense or if it's irrational because I figure you'd be used to crowds and compact spaces by now."

"I'm claustrophobic because I got locked in a cupboard and had a panic attack when I was four," I explain.

"So, it has nothing to do with your family?"

I disagree. "It has everything to do with my family; it was my cousin who locked me in."

He doesn't know what to do at first, like laughing would be a terrible thing to do considering what the experience did to me, but once I start he joins in quickly. His expression only causes me to laugh more and it takes us ages to stop. Once we do, he turns to the door, before facing me again and smiling. "I'll be back in a minute." I let him leave, wondering why he had to go, only for him to come back a few minutes later with two glasses of Champaign, passing one to me. He holds his up for a toast and waits for me to do the same. "To you and me, our crazy families and our bad experiences, all of which brought us out onto this balcony; it's nice to finally have someone who understands to talk to."

We clink our glasses together and down the alcoholic beverage in one go, giggling when we finish our little competition at the same time. He turns to the door again, but this time he doesn't leave for drinks. He points with his thumb behind him. "You wanna get out of here?"

I glance back to the party and there is no way I want to go back in there. I face him to see that his hand is out for me to take so he can apparate us out of here. I take it. "Let's go."

* * *

We land in an alley behind a load of buildings. The bins are filled with cartons and trays and I know they're all fast food places. The thought of food causes my stomach to rumble and he laughs. "My thoughts exactly," he says.

Still holding my hand, Rory pulls me out of the alley and into the street. Its dark and the streets are more or less empty, so no one notices us, and he steps into a chip shop. I haven't had chips or fast food of any kind due to my training and I swear my mouth starts to water. He orders two bags of chips, which are each put into a cone, and we eat them as we walk. It feels good to not have the pressure of fame surrounding me every minute, and I want to enjoy every second of it.

We talk about anything and everything as we walk, from our childhoods to embarrassing moments, we make jokes and I feel like I'm laughing more tonight than I ever have. I really wish Danny had talked about Rory. Maybe we would have met a long time ago.

I force down the feeling in my stomach that tells me I'm attracted to the man at my side and continue to talk. It's not long before we've made it to the centre of town. Rubbish discarded now, we walk past people lining up to get into bars and clubs. He glances my way, trying to mask a hint of worry. I know what he's thinking, but I'm fine. Loud music doesn't bother me, it's the crowds inside. I just shake my head. And he takes my hand, pulling me closer to the next one.

"Are you crazy? You know why I was out on that balcony and you saw the effect. Or some of it, at least!"

"Relax," he reassures me. "We're not going near them." He drags me to the side of the club, opens the door and takes me up the stairs. I don't ask how he knows about this. We end up above the dance floor, to separate VIP booths. He stops at the last one and we go inside.

The people already in there turn as soon as the curtains close. "Rory, you came. And you brought a friend."

Rory points to each of us. "Caleb, this is James Potter. James, this Caleb Turner and Sadie Jones."

We shake hands briefly once Rory and I sit down and the woman at his side, Sadie, passes us a couple of shots each. I turn to Rory wearily. "I know for a fact you have a few days off, considering the season is now over." He puts the shot in my hand. "Live a little."

I ignore the looks they give me as I down the drink; it's what they're waiting for because they cheer when I put the glass back on the table. Caleb passes Rory a cigarette, which he takes, and I shake my head when he asks me, taking the other shot instead. "A non-smoker, eh? Has Rory finally found a guy who will change his wicked ways?"

"Found a _guy_?" I ask.

He frowns. "Didn't I tell you I was gay?" I shake my head. "Well, that's not a problem is it?"

"No," I grin. "It would be hypocritical of me to say yes."

"I know." It's my turn to frown; I didn't tell him I was gay either. But then I remember that it's public knowledge. "Danny told me," he replies and then I remember that I'm friends with his brother. It's still weird to know they're related. I've only spent an hour with Rory and I'm already noticing the differences between them.

We go into separate conversations; Caleb and Sadie, me and Rory, occasionally bringing each little group in when the guys want to share something. I lose track of the time and the amount of alcohol we've been drinking. My head is a little fuzzy and my speech is slightly slurred. "I think it's time I went," I say at last.

"Do you have to?" Rory whines, pulling me back down when I try to stand up. I fall awkwardly and land on him, sitting on his lap instead of the couch. His friends are too busy making out to notice. "You can stay, you know? Or I could go with you?"

"I don't know," I start, but his lips find mine before I can finish. It takes me longer than necessary to remember Danny. I pull back slightly. "I don't think your brother would like it."

"Danny has no say in our lives, James, especially not mine," he whispers. I think he has a point, but that could be the alcohol talking. "Do you really think he'd care? He hasn't even wondered where we are."

I answer Rory by kissing him again, rougher than last time, and he returns it enthusiastically.

I stand up and lead him out of the club.


	2. The Morning After

**A/N: **Don't be fooled by this nice little chapter... Just so there won't be any confusion - there will only ever be two POVs in this story; James' and Rory's. Because it'll always be first person, I'll tell you if it changes.

Also, I made up the name of the restaurant, Rizzo's, solely for this story. If there is a restaurant by that name in London, it is purely coincidental.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

* * *

The alarm clock rings noisily, causing me to wake suddenly. The constant ring seems so much louder than usual, penetrating my ear drums and making my head ache painfully; a harsh reminder of why I am not supposed to drink. At all. Ever. I turn slowly and slam my hand down, missing the clock and hitting the bedside table. It hurts like hell, but it's not the first time; I miss it when I'm sober, too. I flex my fingers as a way to stop the throbbing sensation in my hand and try again, this time hitting my target, and the ringing stops.

"Thank God," I mutter, glad that the noise is over, and rub my eyes. I move my hand upwards, running it through my hair, which only makes it stick up more, and drop it down gently. I move my hand across my chest, onto the bed and outwards to my side, only to find it running over someone else's smooth skin. I frown and finally open my eyes. Then I remember last night and smile softly, watching Rory sleep peacefully.

The sun is peeking through the half-closed curtains and making a path along his chest. I trace the patterns softly with the tip of my finger and his lips curve upwards slightly and, with his eyes still closed, he brings his hand up and across to mine, threading his fingers through my own and stopping my movements.

"It feels good," he whispers, evidence that sleep is still attempting to take over him. "So good."

"Then why did you stop me?"

Rory's smile widens just a little. "Because if you keep doing that, I might never leave and I have to."

"You have things to do today?" He nods slowly. I continue, wanting him to know about my day, though I'm not exactly sure why. "I don't, I'm free to stay in bed all day. It's very strange; I usually have to be up by five for practice."

"Lucky you," Rory murmurs. We're both quiet for a while and I can feel his chest rise and fall gently underneath my hand. I start to think he's fallen back asleep until he speaks again. "Is it okay if I use your shower?"

I chuckle softly and nod even though he can't see me. "Sure. It's across the hall."

Rory opens his eyes and I recognize the soothing chocolate color that held me almost captivated last night at the club. I want to move closer, kiss him again, and I nearly do, but he turns his head to face the ceiling. He hesitates before he lets go of my hand, almost as if he doesn't want to, and sits up reluctantly. His actions allow my hand to fall down his impressive six pack and rest at his waist, just above his morning erection. I'm tempted to lower my hand further, to take him all over again, but he has things to do and I won't make him late. I move my hand to his thigh instead. He seems disappointed by that.

I try to hide my smirk.

"Across the hall, right?" Rory asks, turning to me. I use my other hand to point to the door across from my bedroom, realizing for the first time that I left it open. He nods and steps out of my bed. I'm surprised by the fact that it feels a little colder now, empty, but I ignore it and turn to lie on my back, leaning up slightly to rest my head on the board, content to just watch him walk away. I find I love the view even more while sober and I'm glad he decided not to put anything on to walk to the bathroom.

I close my eyes and listen to the steady fall of water from my shower head, imagining it run down his lean, tanned body. I imagine I'm in there with him, I'm running my hands through his hair and down his chest, soap between my fingers. I dig my fingers into his hips and he groans when I sink my teeth into his shoulder, tipping his head back to rest against me.

It feels so real, so vivid, I don't hear the shower turn off, nor do I hear him come back in. I feel his hands slide upwards and wrap around my waist and his lips find mine. He pulls me up to his chest and I remove my hand from between my legs to wrap my arms around his neck, returning the kiss with surprise enthusiasm. I've never felt this way before.

I blame spending almost an entire year playing Quidditch and not having a social life. Yeah, that's it.

Rory pulls away slowly. "What were you thinking about?"

I loosen my grip from his neck and let my hands rest on his shoulders. I shrug. "Just some guy I met at a party."

His lips curve upwards a fraction before he schools his features into a more innocent expression. "He must be an amazing guy if he's making you feel this way, you must really like him."

I lean forward, kissing him again, not like before; just one quick kiss. But he's grinning when I pull back. "Not really, we just got drunk and had sex."

His smile dropped. "No, James, that's not right. Don't do that." I push him back, so I can sit up and get out of bed, and he leans back into my sheets. "Play the game, Potter."

"I'm taking a shower, Gilbert," I reply, smirking. Once outside in the hall, I turn to walk backwards and point to my left. "The living room is that way to the left; the kitchen is to the right. It's fully stocked with tea and coffee and breakfast. Just in case..."

I don't finish what I want to say; just in case you decide to stay, because I'm shocked to realize that I do want him to stay. I turn away before he can see me blush; I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks due to his stare. Before I close the door to the bathroom, I hear him mutter, "Breakfast it is."

I wash my hair, my body. I wash away the smell of sex and of Rory and I ignore the feeling of disappointment I that only imagine I'm feeling; I don't feel so strongly about someone after one night, I never have done before. I don't come out until I think I'm okay, at least physically wise - Rory may enjoy it, but I'd rather not walk into my kitchen still hard from my fantasy before. Or any thoughts after.

I'm not surprised to find my bedroom empty, but I am surprised to find the apartment quiet. I think he's actually gone, but then I hear him open a window and the distinct sound of a lighter. I pull on some underwear and a pair of jeans, and then remove the t-shirt from the hanger behind the door, carrying it into the living room/kitchen with me. There was something cooking in the pan, but I'm too far away to see and the smell is masked by the cigarette smoke, which is much closer and finds its way to my nose despite Rory facing the open window.

I clear my throat.

Rory turns and removes the cigarette from his lips hastily; his expression makes me chuckle and I take a step closer. "Right, you don't smoke, sorry. Oh, made scrambled egg if you want some." He glances from me to the window to the cigarette and back. "Do you want me to put it out?"

I take the cigarette from his hand and bring it to my lips, which effectively stop him from rambling on. I turn slightly to the left to breathe out and hand it back to him. "It's fine."

I walk away and into the kitchen, turning my head only once to see his stunned and confused expression; I try not to laugh, I understand his confusion, but it's still a funny expression. "I thought you didn't smoke."

I sense an accusatory tone and when I face him again, I see he's settled for narrowed eyes and a determined face – he wants to know what's going on. "I don't. Technically," I explain. "I quit a couple of years ago, albeit with some momentary relapses. I'm quite proud of my once-a-month-when-stressed way of quitting; it's a huge step up from when I first quit."

He laughs softly and holds up the cigarette. "I'm still on –"

He's interrupted by a knock in the door and I look at him, my head is tilted slightly to the right and my eyes narrowed. I think Rory is more confused by the fact that I look confused and it takes me a while to realize that this is my apartment and I should really answer the door, which has just been knocked on again. I walk over slowly; I'm really not expecting anyone and no one who visits ever come to the door - they come through the floo network.

I open it and step back a little, startled by the face on the other side. "Dad? Why are you here?"

Dad chuckles quietly; he knows why I'm confused; he knows I always expect a floo call. "I was in the neighbourhood, I have to go shopping with your mother and apparently I shouldn't have had that lie in and let her go alone, but she told me to remind you on my way that you're coming home for dinner tomorrow, you promised. And I haven't seen you in a while so I thought I'd deliver it personally." He stops suddenly and frowns, his nostrils flared. He glares at me. I hate that. "Do I smell smoke?"

"That's me." I bang my head against the door, not exactly pleased that the guy I shagged last night is explaining himself to my father. It's not that I'm ashamed of sleeping with a, well, stranger, even if that stranger is my friend's brother, but it doesn't stop him being in the same room as my father from being a completely awkward and embarrassing situation.

I look up and turn. Rory comes out from behind me, holding up the cigarette. "I was just telling James that I'm trying to quit; I'm at the once-a-day phase." Ah, the once- a-day phase, that's what me and Dan call them; phases... My mother made me skip it. It's why she doesn't know about the once-a-month-when-stressed phase. I'm thankful Rory puts it out before making his way over, his arms wrapped over his chest because he still hasn't got a shirt on. He holds a hand out hesitantly. "I'm Rory Gilbert. You might know my brother Danny."

I don't like the look my dad is giving Rory; it's suspicion with a hint of familiarity. He's figuring him out, wanting to know his intentions, if he's good enough. From the final nod, it's safe to assume he's decided that Rory is not good enough. I hate that, too. But he takes his hand anyway, only out of politeness. "I've met Daniel. I didn't know he had a brother."

"Yeah, no one does." Rory mutters that, almost dejectedly, and drops his hand. "I'm gonna finish getting dressed."

I watch him make his way to my bedroom, before turning to my father, glaring. "Thanks a lot."

Dad holds up his hands in surrender. "I only said that I didn't know Daniel had a brother. Why would I? I don't talk to him, I've only met him once."

"You were looking at him like he was a criminal. Don't deny it, I know that look." I swear, sometimes my dad takes his job too seriously. That war made him paranoid.

"I have to go." I scoff; naturally he would choose to ignore that. "Six o'clock tomorrow, don't be late. And," he glances behind me, or, more likely, to my bedroom, "Be careful."

He leaves before I can say anything, which is fine because I don't want to, and I shut the door, leaning against it.

"Talk about awkward," Rory says quietly when he comes back in.

I walk over, smile softly and pull him towards me, wrapping my arms around his waist in a comforting gesture. "Let's just pretend it didn't happen. My dad is just protective."

He nods and smiles, then pulls back slightly. "So, what are you going to do now that the season is over and you're not training?"

I cast my gaze to the television on my left and he follows. I love television; it's my favorite Muggle appliance. My dad grew up with one, though he was apparently not allowed to watch it often; he decided it was a Muggle tradition we could keep. "I'm going to watch TV, catch up on the real world. It's very productive."

He moves further away, laughing, and grabs his jacket. I remember he's got something to do today. "So, what do you do when you're not being made to go to your brother's parties? Do you work?"

I lean further into the back of the couch, frowning when he stiffens. He doesn't look me in the eye. "It's not important."

"I won't judge." I assume that's what he thinks I'll do. But I honestly won't and I think he sees that.

"I... Date... For a living."

Oh. _Oh_. "You're an escort." It's not a question, but he nods anyway.

"It's just a job," he says like he's trying to defend himself. "It pays the bills. And it pays well, so... I should go. I'll see you around, James."

That's it? I'm by the door in an instant, my arm blocking him so he can't leave, because those few simple words made me realize that that's not good enough, not for me. Because I like Rory, I really do, and I really want to see him again.

"What are you doing on Monday?"

He looks confused for a second, but he gets what I'm insinuating and he grins. "Really?" He thought his job had put me off? It's quite cute really. I nod. "Nothing. I'm completely free."

"Good. There's a restaurant in London, Rizzo's, I can make reservations for eight. I'll pick you up at half seven."

"No, my place is a mess," he tells me. "I'll come to you." Then he moves forward, kisses me quickly. "I'll see you on Monday."

I smile and open the door to let him out. I watch him leave, then I'm back to leaning against it. Only this time I'm not pissed at the person leaving.

Monday. I can't wait.

* * *

**A/N:** Just what is Harry thinking?

Next chapter: Rory.


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